


You Went on the Tube Like That?

by Decisions_Decisions



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6917623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decisions_Decisions/pseuds/Decisions_Decisions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John meets Sherlock on his way home from work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Went on the Tube Like That?

I should have paid extra for a cab; John thought as he looked around the carriage his mental voice putting a wry twist on the unspoken words. He shifted in his seat, but he couldn't really move much except to press himself farther back into the cheep plastic upholstery. He was well and truly stuck, squeezed between a man who had drenched himself in a cologne that was not in any way compatible with his ph levels and a woman whose overstuffed bag was trying to bury itself in his ribs and succeeding. He felt miserable, uncomfortable, and overheated in the jumper that had seemed like a sensible thing to wear when he'd gotten dressed that morning but now felt like a mistake. 

After a few moments of torture, that included an obnoxiously loud phone call and resisting the urge to gag, highlighted by the ever increasing certainty that he would have the outline of that purse grafted into his skin even in death, he pulled a book from his bag. Sarah had let him borrow it after he complained that he had nothing to entertain himself with besides a phone he had no clue how to use on the rides to work and back. He let the mystery drag him in, the words taking him away from the heat and the cramped space so well that he only noticed that something had changed when he shifted in his seat and discovered that he could actually move. He jolted up and his eyes locked on the man that was sitting across from him barely even noticing that he was the only person within five seats of the man who hadn't moved and honestly looking at him it wasn't hard at all to see why people would give him space.

Blood.

The man was covered in crimson splatters of blood.

It was streaked across his face in darting lines of crimson. It dripped from his hair and from the tip of the harpoon he held standing beside him. The scent of copper wafted off of him and any hope that the man was just an actor covered in fake blood went out the window. The stranger was tall and thin as a rail with eyes like an ocean frozen over. His face was pale and angular and his hair was a mess of wild dark curls. He was wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up the whole thing stained with splashes of red. 

John blinked at the spectacle his book forgotten in his lap. "Should I be phoning the police or is this one of those internet pranks that Harry's been telling me about?" 

The man chuckled the laugh building in his chest before it escaped from his mouth, the sound deep and resonating in the eerie silence of the overcrowded carriage. "No, it's not human blood, it's from a pig."

John felt mostly received and his mouth took the opportunity to run off without his input because he found himself saying something that made him feel like a fool in front of a man riding the tube covered in pigs blood while holding a harpoon. “Must have been a bad day for the pig.”

They both burst into laughter the other people in the car looking at them both like they were loosing their heads and at the moment while he was laughing like a lunatic John wouldn’t have blamed any of them.

“Sherlock Holmes.” The man said suddenly his voice smooth and deep and almost enough to make John forget about the red mix of sweat and blood that dripped from his face and stained his shirt.

“John Watson.” He held out his hand automatically before his brain managed to catch up with the rest of his body and he decided he didn’t really want pigs blood on his hand. He instead waved at the harpoon curiosity biting at the thoughts running through his head. “How did you even get on don’t they have rules about weapons on the tube?”

“I have my methods.” Sherlock said smoothly his lips quirked in amusement and it somehow by some miracle managed to be endearing in spite of the blood on his face. 

“Do I want to know what those methods are?” John looked pointedly at the harpoon unable to hide a smirk.

Sherlock's lips pulled back into a grin that looked positively disturbing when combined with the red splashed across his face. “Probably not.”

Though they didn't quite burst into laughter it was still hard for them to hide their rather obvious snickers with practically every eye in the train on them. Sherlock stood suddenly the car pulling to a stop in tandem with his rise and John was suddenly certain that the ride that had only moments ago felt too long had ended much too soon. Sherlock turned to leave but stopped and looked at John. "The address is 221 B Baker Street if you're interested."

The people stuck behind them glared at them as though the seconds that they were being held up for would stretch on for hours. None of them however were brave enough to try and get past either of them while Sherlock stood there looking like a psychopath holding a deadly weapon. John ignored the angry eyes and blinked the words taking him by surprise. "Interested in what?"

"You're a retired Army Doctor recently returned from either Afghanistan or Iraq stuck in a dull bedsit and a boring job and I have found myself in need of someone to share the rent with. I have the solution for both your problems and my own, together we ought to be able to afford it." Sherlock said with a smile before he exited the car to the relief of everyone else on board. 

John leaned back heavily in his seat even as he pulled a pen from his pocket. He opened the book and wrote Sherlock Holmes 221 B Baker Street on the piece of paper he'd been using as a bookmark. He rubbed at his temples his head spinning, stuck unpleasantly skipping like a broken record on Sherlock's final statement as he tried to piece together how's and whys that only ended up spinning his thoughts in tangled circles. His lips quivered before settling onto a slight smile something that almost felt like living unfurling in his chest for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime.


End file.
